"But I remember that it is only a very short time since you said you would like to see me on a throne," responded Teresa, with an affectionate and pleasant smile.
"Oh, pardon me, lady—pardon me, Teresa, if my natural rudeness has made me say a stupid thing," said Guillen. "I only meant, that perchance you would be more happy if that dream were a reality,—and I also would be more happy if such were the case," he timidly added.
The love of the page was so great that his heart was scarcely large enough to contain it. The life which Teresa had reminded him of, that life, rich with peace and with love, which he himself had sketched—sketched only, for although he conceived it in all its beauty, he had not skill enough to paint it in its completeness; that life, we repeat, presented itself to his eyes, and the enamoured youth had not the power to conceal his love any longer.
"And why, Guillen," asked Teresa, "why would you be more happy if I were a poor peasant girl?"
"Because then I could always call you Teresa, and would be at liberty to love you as no man ever loved in the world," replied the page enthusiastically.
"Guillen!" said the Infanta in a voice trembling with joy and emotion, whilst a glow of colour overspread her pale cheeks, and her blue eyes shone with unusual brilliancy, "Guillen! I have already told you, that for you I shall be only Teresa."
"My God!" exclaimed the page, falling on his knees before her, and raising his eyes, moist with tears. "I am the happiest of men!"
He then added, looking up to her—
"Well, then, I will love Teresa now, whilst I am but a poor peasant, and the Infanta of Carrion, when I shall be worthy of her."
"And why should you not love her now, Guillen? Is it a crime for a man of humble birth to love the daughter of a count?"